It is late and instead of being asleep for the past two hours I have been tweaking things here and there and everywhere, instead of simply writing the short post I intended. For example, it took me an hour to figure out that my blog theme is one of four that doesn’t have Options on the Links Widget. Terrific. At least the blogroll is back up there and has been updated.

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I love my man. I really, really do.

Yet the longer time passes as we live together, the more I find examples which perfectly illustrate how differently we think and operate. I have many but few are able to be so perfectly captured by two snapshots.

Over the weekend, I noticed that the plastic bin in the bathroom which houses extra toilet paper was empty. I thought we were totally out when my wonderful boyfriend pulled the remaining eight rolls or so from another closet. Delighted we didn’t have to resort to kleenex and paper towels until we got new toilet paper, I kindly asked him to refill the bin. He ever so willingly obliged.

If I were more of a control freak – and I really am one – I might have “checked his work” sooner. However, in working on not being ‘that person,’ I didn’t think twice about it. Then, as is the natural way of things, the first roll ran out and I went to the bin to get another. Here is how he – and most men would – refilled it:

Toilet paper stocking, man style.

I burst out in a shocked laugh. “Seriously?” I said to myself.

Muttering some more with things like, “I should have known” and “Figures,” I rearranged the toilet paper. There is no way I would be able to sleep with that kind of mess going on. Isn’t that so completely irrational? Yet there is no way I could not NOT fix it.

The compulsive or "normal" way to stock TP.

I really can not think of another way to demonstrate just how polar opposite these approaches are. One takes the extra twenty seconds to get as many rolls in to the bin as neatly as possible, making it look nice and ready when we need it. The other says that the person can’t be bothered to care about how something as trivial as toilet paper should be stocked and at least it’s in the bin so what are you complaining about?

And let’s face it. It’s not the end of the world. But it goes deeper than this. This kind of haphazard “arranging,” if you can call it that, extends to other organizational and cleanliness tendencies around the home. I simply do not have the time or energy to delve into it but let’s just say that this is just a metaphor for how each one of us does things. I’ll have to write more on this at another time. My dog is staring at me non-stop and nudging my elbow, urging both of us to climb in bed where we belong.

Still baffled by the line of thinking that believes the arbitrary throwing of the toilet paper is “fine,” I must bid goodnight and get some sleep.